AUTHOR: Supergirl, with help from DearOne
TITLE: Dance With the Devil, Chapter VI: Control
RATING: hard R, for sexual situations and some violence
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Once again, this is written entirely by me, but based on a roleplay with DearOne. She gets credit for half the plot and a large part of Willow and Spike's dialogue.
SPECIAL THANKS: To Ian for helping with much needed last minute editing.
FEEDBACK: Do I want feedback? Is Spike the hottest man (not)alive? Duh. And, of course, thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far, letting me know that it's not a waste of my time writing this.

APOLOGIES: Took a while, I know. Dang college work getting in the way. I'll try hard to get the next chapter out sooner.
RECAP: Buffy had sex with Spike at a frat party. Then again in the Bronze bathroom. Ok, not really, because Willow interrupted. Ooh, that Willow... But it's ok, because earlier Buffy walked in on her and Oz. So now they're even. Now, if Spike is still evil, why hasn't tried to kill Buffy, you ask? Good question – read on!

It had been nearly a week. Five days, to be exact. Five whole days since the incident in the Bronze bathroom — which Buffy still remembered so vividly — when, after being interrupted by Willow, Spike had made her a promise to have her again no matter what. Five days, and he had yet to make himself known. Maybe he'd been bluffing. Or maybe he'd fallen down a ditch somewhere. 'Well, great,' she thought, 'good for him.'

Oh, WHY hadn't he shown up yet?!!

She kicked a gravestone in frustration. "Ow...Way to go, Buffy."

"Hurt yourself, luv?" said a familiar voice from behind her. Buffy whirled around to see Spike's leering face. "I could make it all better..."

She fought the impulse to run. 'No, Summers, don't show weakness.' She was on patrol to slay vampires, right? And that's all Spike was – another vampire. The fact that she'd had sex with this one... quite possibly the best sex of her life... shouldn't really be an issue. Her only objective now was to kill.

Taking a fighting stance, she put on her best 'don't mess with me' face and said as casually as she could: "Spike. Perfect. I was hoping I'd see you."

"Perfect?" He smirked. "Why thank you, Slayer. Miss me, did you?"

"No, but my fist did."

He easily ducked her punch. "You seem upset. I'm sorry, I know I should've called."

"You're reeeeally begging to be dust, aren't you?" She swung again, not missing this time. "Not that I need to be persuaded."

"Now that was uncalled for," he commented, backhanding her across the face.

Buffy's head snapped back from the blow.

"Oh yeah? What about this?" She retaliated with a punch in the gut, making Spike double over.

"I get the distinct feeling you're angry with me, pet."

She ducked his next swing, kicking him in the chest. "Gee, what gave you that idea?"

He shrugged and punched her again. "Can't imagine why you would be."


"What, the Bronze? Spare me, Summers. We both know you wanted it."

"Oh yeah, because who wouldn't want to be molested by a disgusting evil demon?" she spit, with another swing. "No, you're right, Spike, I did want it... like I want a skin disease."

She went to kick him again, but this time he managed to grab her foot and hold it, "Funny, amidst all that moaning, I could've sworn I heard 'more, please, more.'"

"You're such a pig, Spike!" she scowled, trying to mask her humiliation. She attempted to kick out of his hold, but it only resulted in losing her balance and falling flat on her back.

Spike was on her in an instant, straddling her thighs, pinning her arms to the ground with his strong hands. When she tried to buck him off, it only resulted in rubbing up against his erection. 'How can he be so hard already, when we haven't even...?' she thought, half appalled by it, half mesmerized. He looked down at her and leered. "Sure you want to do this here, pet? Anybody could walk by..."

She should have been a lot more disgusted by his insinuation, and a lot less turned on. "What happened to wanting to kill me?" she gasped, the only thing she could think of.

"Oh, I will, luv. Don't you worry."

"Why haven't you, then?"

"There'll be plenty of time for that later," he assured. "But in the meantime..." his voice turned husky as he lowered his head, lips brushing hers, "you're soft... and warm... and just begging for attention."

The kiss that followed was so tender and sweet... not at all fit to accompany a death threat. Spike's lips danced over hers caressingly, tongue seeking entrance to her mouth, and she fought with all her might not to kiss back, but it was getting nearly impossible. Just a little more. All she had to do was hold out a little longer, then he would loosen his grip and she could throw him off.

And then he finally did. The moment Buffy felt one of his hands shift she shoved him up with her freed arm, using the space between them to knee him in the groin. As Spike let out a yell and rolled off, she immediately sprang to her feet, scrambling for her stake.

He lay curled on the ground, grimacing in pain. "Bloody bitch..."

"Come on, Spike," she taunted. "Get up. Let's finish this."

The vampire rose to his feet slowly, giving her a venomous glare, but then his face slipped into a stone mask of indifference. "Well, now you've gone and killed the mood, luv."

"Oh. Pity."

She stood there a moment, giving him a scrutinizing look... before lunging herself at him and knocking him over. The next moment Spike was splayed out on his back, and Buffy was on top, stake poised over his heart.

Spike's anger quickly changed back to arousal at their new position. "Careful with that," he purred, rocking his hips against her, despite the slight lingering pain, "you won't have nearly as much fun if I'm dust."

Didn't he realize she was about to kill him, Buffy thought, outraged. "You don't think you're being just a little cocky, Spike?"

"Not little, Slayer." He smirked and thrust up against her once more, making her blush wildly. That was SO not what she meant.

Spike grinned wickedly at the sight, finding her embarrassment most adorable. His gaze traveled over her wide eyes and flushed cheeks, then dropped to her mouth, and he froze, mesmerized. The chit was nibbling on her bottom lip, as if she had no idea just how arousing it was. The stake poking into his chest stopped him from kissing her, but bloody hell, he wanted her so badly...

Buffy saw Spike's tongue dart out to lick his lips, and her own became suddenly dry. She stared, unable to look away. Oh, how she'd love to replace his tongue with hers... That jerk, how dare he be so sexy when she was trying to kill him?!

Spike picked up a certain scent in the air, making his own desire grow even stronger, eyes lighting up hungrily. He forgot all about the threat of the stake, and slowly his hands began to caress up her jean-clad thighs.


"Stop that..." she whispered, a little breathless. Why wasn't he dust yet? She pressed the stake harder into his chest, the sharp tip breaking the surface of the skin, making Spike wince slightly.

But his hands only twitched, then continued. "You stop it."

Up... up her legs... over her hips... to her waist and under the hem of her shirt... Buffy shuddered.

"This is wrong."

She was beginning to feel lightheaded, and she barely noticed as he pulled the stake from her loose grip and tossed it aside, murmuring softly, "You won't be needing this."

She gasped as Spike took the same hand that had held the stake and brought it to his lips, kissing the pulse-point of her wrist, his eyes on hers. He then proceeded to kiss her palm, then the tip of every finger... And when he took each one by one into his mouth, she thought she would melt from the unspeakable sensuality of it.

Shouldn't she be stopping this? Before she could think any further he started kissing his way up her arm, his other hand dipping into her hair, pulling her down... And then she didn't even know what was happening anymore, because as soon his lips found hers, everything else — along with the last bits of her resistance — faded into nothing. Nothing but the feel of his mouth on hers again.

Spike rolled them over, and when their mouths finally parted he leaned above her, looking down at her face. "So beautiful..." he kissed her forehead. And her neck, "So sweet..."

"Spike, don't..." she murmured, with little conviction. "You hate me..."

"Yes..." he kissed his way across her throat, barely lifting his lips from her skin to murmur muddled replies, "...Slayer... always ruining... my plans..."

It was so good Buffy could hardly think. "Shouldn't..." she wrapped a leg around his hip, " letting..." then the other, " do this..." One hand went reflexively to the back of his head, clutching at his hair as she pressed his head harder against neck, savoring the sensation of his sweet, cold lips upon her skin.

Spike groaned. It was too much. Her legs wrapping around him, her little hands holding him to her... The feeble protests from her lips sounded more like an invitation, and he eagerly accepted, half-vamping for a moment to scrape her neck with his fangs, then latching on to the wound with a human mouth.

The quick sting of his fangs made her gasp, but the gasp turned into a moan when he began to suck, drawing her blood into his mouth and lapping at the wound with his sensuously rough tongue. The feel, the intensity of it was so incredible... Buffy squeezed her eyes shut tightly as she felt herself rising higher and higher. Was it possible to come just from this? She couldn't believe how close she was, when Spike hadn't even...

The urge to sink his fangs in and drain her was growing stronger and stronger, but he fought the demon down, growling against her neck. No, couldn't kill her just yet. She was too much fun. Soon he would taste her death, but not now, not like this. It would be on the battlefield, fist to fist. They'd fight good and proper, and it would finally end when he snapped the bitch's neck. Tore off her pretty little head. Ripped out her still beating heart. As for now, he'd much rather shag her into the ground and hear her scream for him.

"I hate you..." she gasped, as he sucked harder, getting the last droplets of blood. "...And don't you dare stop!" At that Spike pulled back and grinned down at her evilly, making her scowl. "Damn y—" But before she could finish he swooped down, claiming her mouth in a hard, demanding kiss.

Buffy couldn't help moaning at the roughness of his lips, desire overwhelming her anger. She tightened her legs around his waist instinctively, and Spike tore his mouth from hers with a feral snarl. He looked down at her again, gaze hot and intense. Her face was slightly pale, cheeks flushed, lips bruised from his savage kisses. And her thighs were clenched around him in a death-grip that might have crushed a human man's pelvis. And he had to have her. Now.

She was as wet as he was hard, he could tell, frustrated and teetering on the brink of orgasm, longing for release more than she longed for her next breath. She confirmed this with her whispered plea. "Spike... I need..."

"What do you need, baby?"

"You... inside me..."

He caught her chin in one hand, forcing her to look him in the eyes and be aware of exactly whom she was speaking to. He wasn't her precious Angel. And he wasn't some bumbling frat-boy either. He was her enemy, a killer. And she wanted him nonetheless.

Her hands reached for his zipper, but he grabbed them and pinned both wrists above her head, asserting his control. He'd give her what she wanted, but they'd be playing by his rules. He quickly undid his own pants, then moved to hers, nimble fingers making short work of her button fly, shoving the denim down her legs with one hand. She kicked the jeans off while he found her panties, black lace this time (as if she'd been expecting this, the little harlot), and instead of pulling them off, tore them impatiently. He lifted the scrap up to his face and inhaled, repeating the same move from their first night. She almost trembled at the memory. And then that memory no longer mattered, because when he took hold of her hips roughly and his mouth descended on hers, all reality stopped.


After the fourth or fifth time, when Spike finally decided to give her a moment to rest, Buffy turned to the side and closed her eyes, and tried to understand how she was letting him do this to her.

Her only sexual experiences prior to this had been completely different — both of her lovers had been gentle, treating her like a delicate, fragile thing. Not Spike. Spike was rough and merciless and demanding, doing what he did to her with such complete abandon... and it felt better than anything ever had.

What was wrong with her? She was screwing an evil demon on the dirty ground in the middle of a cemetery, and all of it willingly. How sick and demeaning was that?

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered.

"Why?" Spike chuckled, then grabbed her and kissed her passionately. He pulled back with a smirk. "Do you really need to ask, Slayer?"

Instead of answering, she yanked him down by the collar of his duster, forcing his lips back to hers. The hell with dignity, she thought. She'd lost that a long time ago anyway. Right now she just wanted him again.

"You know... this is wrong..." she panted between kisses. "We hate each other..."

"Wrong's not really... a problem for me... pet," he replied, kissing her back with equal fervor. "Evil, remember?"

How could she forget?

"Isn't screwing the Slayer... kinda high... on the 'vampire don'ts' list?"

They'd stopped so Buffy could catch her breath, but she was still running her hot little hands over his body, and Spike closed his eyes in pleasure. "I've never been one to follow the rules..."

One hand slipped past his waist, finding his open fly. Spike bit back a groan.

"I bet this isn't in the rules either, is it?"

"You break them all..." he breathed, eyes shut, unable to control the effect she was having on him. "Your skin... your scent..." Sweet, bloody hell, this was so wrong. He shouldn't want her this badly. The touch of her hand shouldn't be giving him such immense pleasure. She was a siren, a goddess, a demon from the pits of hell. She was the very face of his damnation.

He growled low in his chest. Then suddenly his eyes snapped open and he grabbed her hand, stilling it, and pulled it forcefully away; almost as if he couldn't stand how much he wanted to let her keep touching him forever. Because he couldn't, couldn't let her go on doing that to him. It wasn't right. It wasn't right when he wasn't in control. Getting hand-jobs from slayers wasn't a Big Bad thing to do. Now, viciously shagging said slayer into oblivion, that was for Big Bads. Making her scream his name until her throat was hoarse, making her whimper and beg for release, pleasuring her until it hurt... Not letting her have power over him, those hot little fingers all wrapped around him and moving oh so slow, driving him wild, almost making him moan.

No. He wasn't having any of that.

Her breath caught in a tiny gasp as he held her hand still. "How long?"

"How long, pet?"

His husky voice sent shivers through her. She arched slightly off the ground as he caught her other wrist and pinned them both above her head, like before. "How long have you wanted me?"

"Every vampire wants the Slayer... or part of her, anyway." He leaned to kiss the pulse point of her neck.

"I don't mean to kill me, Spike. I mean..." him holding her wrists down was making it hard to illustrate her point, so she used her leg to pull him closer, "...this. How long have you wanted this?"

He considered the question seriously. How long ago had this started? Last week, when the evidence of her arousal from seeing him naked had made him hard beyond words? A month ago, when they had traded blows in broad daylight in the middle of her quad, and he unwittingly found himself imagining that they were shagging instead of fighting? When he had caught the same scent in the air that he would later pick up in that frat room, and known that she was just as turned on by the fight as him. Or was it last year, when he'd returned to find her back with Angelus, after that wanker had cost him his Dru? It could've even been two years ago, his first time seeing her, dancing at the club... He'd always hungered for her blood, but every memory seemed intermixed with wanting her body. "Don't rightly know," he said finally, not wanting to delve into it too deeply. "'s not important, is it?"

"I want to know, Spike," she insisted. She felt him rise above her, knowing what was to come... It was scary and exhilarating all at once, like nearing the swell of a roller coaster, waiting for the plunge. She caught her breath. "Did you want me when you were with her?"

Spike paused, frowning. "'Course not," the vampire sneered, sounding a little too defensive, "No one compares to Dru. Certainly no slayer."

"No one?" That couldn't be jealousy she felt. Jealousy would require having actual feelings for him, beyond utter loathing. Maybe it was possessiveness. Or some sense of female pride. Whatever it was, it made Buffy suddenly want nothing more than to prove him wrong.

With all her strength she suddenly twisted out of Spike's grip and pushed him over onto his back, using her momentum to roll on top of him in one fluid motion. She held him down with a strong hand against his chest, and Spike's mouth fell open in shock at her bold actions, nostrils flaring in both anger and lust. She lifted her hips and stilled above him, eyes hard on his. Then, never breaking eye-contact, she lowered herself down.

Spike gasped and clenched his teeth, the sensations crashing over him like a tidal wave. Bloody hell, this chit was amazing. His hands went to her hips, holding her against him as she began to move.

"Open your eyes, Spike." Buffy tried to keep her voice steady despite her own building pleasure, slowly picking up speed. "I asked you a question, and you're damned well going to answer it."

"You don't give me orders, Blondie," he half snarled, half groaned.

"You want me to stop?"

She was riding him almost at a gallop now, setting a pace that she refused to let him alter. And when she squeezed just that much tighter, she saw Spike swallow his reply as his eyes rolled up in excruciating bliss.

'I did that to him...'

"You think you're in control here?" Spike managed, his voice hoarse. What she was doing to him was unbelievable, but he tried to fight against his pleasure-clouded senses, struggling to regain the upper hand. He bucked and twisted underneath her, attempting to flip them over. Buffy, however, was not about to give up the position of power. She held him down and increased the tempo, grinding into him harder, until he couldn't help but groan. They both knew he couldn't fight her. Not when it felt this good to give in.

"And you thought you were?" she panted, triumphant, even while she trembled on top of him in her own sweet ecstasy. Her nails dug into his skin as she leaned down, mussed golden tresses brushing his face like angel kisses. But instead of bringing her lips to his as he expected, she dove for his throat and bit down, surprisingly hard. Spike howled and bucked off the ground, nearly coming right then.

Gods, how did she know all this? How could the pure and virginal Slayer be able to do such deliciously carnal things to him? Maybe she was a succubus; maybe this was how he would die, clenched between his enemy's sweet thighs.

She pushed herself up again and looked down into Spike's eyes. They were blurry, glazed with mindless lust. Right now he was hers, powerless against anything she chose to do to him. She could easily stake him, if she had one handy... But she didn't want to. "Was your princess ever this good?"

Oh damn, slayer muscles... he couldn't think. "Soddin' hell... so hot..."

"Yeah... you like that, baby?"

"Yesss..." he hissed through clenched teeth, rocking his hips roughly to meet her thrusts. "So... bloody... amazing..." He was nearing the edge, but held back. She had to come first. If it was the very last bit of control he had, he'd make her come first.

Spike pulled her down for a searing kiss, and she met him hungrily, fully echoing his own desire. He could taste it: she was drunk on her power over him. Drunk on power, and drunk on the glorious feeling of him beneath her, inside her... but as the pleasure escalated so grew the tension in her, tightening, building. She'd come once already, earlier, but this was different. This was the big one. This one was going to blow out her brain.

She clutched at him desperately, yanking him up with her, pulling Spike half out of his coat. Their mouths were still fused and his arms now tight around her, fingers in her hair and under her shirt. She let him devour her as she moved her hips faster, in frantic, uneven jerks, and he thrust back mercilessly. And then, finally reaching her peak, she dug her nails into his arms (now bare, without the leather sleeves of his coat) hard enough to draw someone else's blood from the welts. And with a roar, Spike let go and followed her into his own blinding orgasm, howling her name at the same time she screamed his.

They collapsed to the ground, slayer panting for much needed air, the fierce evil vampire slumping beneath her bonelessly. Both sated, both utterly, utterly spent. Spike gathered her against him when he had enough strength, and for a long time the two were motionless, minus the up-and-down of Buffy's slowing breath.

Finally, she lifted her head off his chest just barely. "You tell me any other woman can do that to you."

He was too weak to argue. Or think. Instead he kissed the top of her head, almost tenderly, and muttered, "You may 'ave a point there, pet..."

Then lapsed into unconsciousness.


Chapter 7 coming soon, hopefully. But while you wait, please check out my other fics (if you haven't yet). Reviews would be greatly appreciated!